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When people say, “Don’t worry… everything will be alright…” I neither can believe them nor believe in them. Why don’t they rather say, “Don’t worry, everything will be all wrong…”? It’s the truth… nothing will be all right, everything will be all wrong.

Now, I’ll try to explain my theory of “Don’t worry… Everything will be all wrong.”

Let’s start with the “Don’t worry”. When you see someone in pain/ trouble/ going through tough times in eir lives, you have to tell them not to worry. You must also use this phrase on people who keep worrying their brains out. I’m talking about people who would worry if they won’t have anything to worry about, trust me there are these kinds. So, basically “Don’t worry” means you know don’t worry or in a layman’s term – Stop worrying! [Genius, right?]

Now, let’s go on to the second phrase – “Everything will be all right”. The words “will be” = future which is absolutely uncertain. Even Alice Cullen with her vampirical power to see in the future has professed [does this word go here? I’m trying to write something very smart but if you think this isn’t the right word – please be smarter and replace it with whatever word “actually” fits there and continue reading, will you?] that future is uncertain. You’ve gotta believe her, even the Volturis believe her and are “actually” after her [for her power to see into the future].

So, where was I? Oh yes, future is uncertain. Therefore, when you tell people “everything will be alright” – you’re actually not making any sense. In which case, you should stop saying it.

On the other hand, if you say “Don’t worry… Everything will be all wrong“– the whole thing sounds different with the change in that last word. When someone says, “Don’t worry, everything will be all right” means what’s happening around you now isn’t right and that in the near future [which no one’s seen] things will be [future tense] all right.

Everything is going to be ALL WRONG!!)

However, if someone says, “Don’t worry, everything will be all wrong”, it is an assurance that you’re in a good place already. Once people find out where they are [at that point of time], is a good place [already] – well the worrying actually stops. Think about it. Wouldn’t you stop worrying if you knew that you were in a good place, already?

Besides, when you say “Everything will be all wrong”, it’s a way of saying “I doubt if everything will go wrong”. As I have mentioned somewhere above “will be” is future – uncertainty. Now, imagine saying “Everything will be all right” and what it could imply.

Moreover, when you say “Everything will be all wrong” – it’s also another way of “hoping for the best, preparing for the worst”.

Well, if you aren’t convinced yet… Don’t worry… Everything will be alright.

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!…”

All I know is all auld acquaintance should not be forgot. Today, I am a bit sentimental. I am a little freaked out. Maybe it’s the above song’s affect.

This post actually is about my sixth sense or lack thereof. I’m pretty sure I have sic sense and sometime I highly doubt it. Amidst the clouds of doubt, I still wish I could read signs – the ones that save me from danger. Signs that make me help take the right decision, signs that lead me to buried treasure.

Maybe as I walk down the road today, I want to find a penny – head up. It takes me a long time to realise it’s a 1943 Copper Wheat Penny. For someone who doesn’t know a thing about coin but believes in the luck that ensues finding a head-up penny, I walk a little further and aaaaa aaaaaaa atchoooo! and one more aaaaaa aaaaaaaaaa atchoooooo!! My nose starts to itch and lo and behold – I am standing right in front of a coin-collection store.

Snap out of that little daydream and into reality – right here and now. Nothing.

But I can read signs, I have intuition, I have the sixth sense – when it comes to birthdays. I can never forget people’s [especially friends/ frenemies] birthdays, ever. I dream of estranged friends/ ex-boyfriends/ frenemies – all out of the blue – without having them cross my mind… a little head-scratching and a “Why?”/ “How come?” gives me the answer – AAAAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaa, it’s eir birthday.

It’s good to have this birthday-alerts but I want more. I want to read signs that lead me to that buried treasure and then I want to see a dream that shows me exactly how to get there. After that, I want to find a penny that’s worth a lot of money [enough for me to buy all the tools et al that I may need for my treasure expedition]… I want, I want, I want… I want!!!!! I want 😦

[NB apologies, I do NOT have a clue as to what I meant to write or what I’ve written today]

The world is an unfair place when you want it to play fair. I responded by lighting a cigarette. I know it’s lame but that’s what I did. Having had that smoking addiction for slightly less than a decade and being clean for 2 years, this is how and when I took the first step at defeat. Was it worth it?

I looked up at the grey skies above, prayed in silence as I smoked. I stubbed my third cigarette halfway because I couldn’t take it any longer. Smoking doesn’t help, never did. I knew [still do] it better. The sky’s still grey, my prayers are still falling into deaf ears. Maybe I need to scream it out loud.

I went out, cleared the weed gathered around my little space – in the hope of clearing what’s in my head, too, I guess. I stood under a cold shower to freeze the frustration. The spine-chilling water didn’t help, either. There I was trembling, gasping for warmth and “my place” is tad cleaner.

jinxed heaven?!?

I am where I wanted to be. I am where I once called it heaven. Then why is it that I feel like hell here in Heaven?

I’m not asking the world to be fair… All I’m asking is “Where did it all go wrong?”

Children learn the word “NO” before they learn its counter-word “Yes” obviously because No is easier to utter [technically]. I couldn’t have been an exception so I too must have started my language development with a “No”. Little would I have known how completely things were about to change.

I, especially, remember a girl [who I thought was a friend, then] who lived off me. It all began while we were walking to our school one day. I was carrying this new denim bag [which was really cool, then] and she had this proper school-bag school bag. She complimented me on my bag and I did the same. Then she suggested we change our school bags. After that, if I had anything that looked better than hers, we swapped. Many a times when she got compliments for my things, I almost always wished she would acknowledge that they were mine. Who was I fooling?

Even as I typed the conversation above, a flood of emotions overwhelmed me. Why was I like that? What made me hate myself so much? How did I turn up so pathetic? Who is (was) responsible for the way I behaved then? Where did the child [who learned to say NO first] disappear? When did saying “no” become a vice?

My attempt at finding the answers:

No is a negative word and thus should not be uttered unless it’s for a bad thing. For instance; say NO to drugs. Never do they say “Say NO to giving your pen to a friend.”

I wanted to fit in so badly that I was scared if I said NO, people will stop liking me. Besides, I wanted the others to say nice things about me.

I weighed my NO to the recipient of my NO. Isn’t having a friend always better than having a nice pair of shoes?

Not everything is permanent in life and so I grew up [lesser on the length and more on the width] wondering what it’ll be like to say NO someday. And one day, just like that, began my journey into know-no-land, maybe because I knew the grass would be greener on the other side.

“Get me some water, please”.

ME: No… Please get it yourself.

“…why can’t you get it for me? I’ve asked you so nicely…”

ME: Because I am learning to say NO when I mean NO and you have to take my NO for an answer.

I really thought I’d faint there and then, but I didn’t. At the end of my first NO, I lost a [so-called] friend but not before she lectured me on how horribly awful it was to say NO to a thirsty friend. Maybe she wasn’t a friend after all and by losing her I gained a little confidence. I had, after all, uttered NO and I didn’t choke on my words, my eyes didn’t pop out of their socket, neither did I vomit blood and nor did I drop dead… I survived… a miracle!!!

I still hesitate to say a straight no-nonsense NO. As a result, sometime conversation as below ensues –>

“Do you have a cigarette?”

ME: Remember… I asked you if you had one last night.

“Yeah, I also REMEMBER I had offered you one.”

ME: That’s my point. If I had asked you for a cigarette LAST night, what makes you think I would miraculously have one THIS very MORNING?

“You could have just said NO”.

ME: oooops :$

Well, I have reached my know-no-land and not without still having difficulties navigating, at times. I can now say ‘NO’ [effortlessly sometimes] BUT I’ve earned myself a title “Selfish” – say whaaaaaaaa?

Well, this post is about Miss P who Pays me a monthly visit and to all the *ladies* out there and maybe JB above [exceptions: Little ladies, Elderly ladies and Expecting ladies]. Miss P is what sets us apart from our male counterparts and thus makes us oh-so-very special.

Before Miss P paid me her first visit, I was used to listening to painful and sometimes scary stories from friends who were well acquainted, already. And so, one sunny Saturday she paid me an unexpected visit ~ seconds later I became a woman (??). I didn’t like her at all. According to my adolescent self, she crippled me; crippled me from running free… [I have changed my mind and become more positive about her, over the years].

Miss P has been nice to me. Maybe, because I had this reservation about her and it’s like she’s trying to prove me wrong. She comes regularly and without any baggage. She warns me before her arrival ~ a gentle knock [i.e. a light tug in the inside of my naval area] and she always comes on weekends. The only time she doesn’t come on weekends is when I am absolutely busy. She is then very considerate about visiting me when I’m likely to have a lot of rest or when there’s a public holiday around. I don’t know how she’s managed to be this good to me, but I feel lucky about all this.

One day a friend remarked, “You always get your period when we’re traveling.”

My answer, “That’s because I always get my period during holidays.”

On the first day of her visit, she’s very easy around me (as if she doesn’t want to burden). The second day, she works efficiently and from the third evening she starts making her absence felt. On the fourth she simply leaves traces as a reminder that she had been there. She leaves quietly on the 5th day until she knocks on the door with a gentle tug again –> next month.

Only recently, when a colleague began complaining about insufferable Miss P who, according to her, comes with cramps, backaches, irregularity and so on did I realise how lucky I’ve always been :knocks on wood: Once in the bluest moon, she does come my way with a little bit of bloating, lethargy and slight exhaustion – but nothing that can’t be cured with a little rest. And like I said earlier, she visits me when I have ample time to rest, I have no excuse [whatsoever] to complain.

It really does take others’ misfortune to count on one’s blessing! I love my Miss P because I know how troublesome she could have been… Period.

Before I forget the fact that this blog is about me being single, here’s a post on being single. I’ve been carried away as I have been writing for other categories [easier in comparison to this one]. The other categories may not always be about my single life. If anyone stumbles into my blog, and going by the blog’s name, assumes this blog is about some wild rantings by and on a single-by-choice life, then I want them to find something meaty here. So this is one of many peeks into being single.

There was a time when I wanted to be single and here I am still wanting to be single.

Some things don’t change and am I happy about it.

Why am I happy?

–> Because being single lets me decide who I’d give up my single-hood for. You need not feel guilty even if you are eying someone who’s beyond you – as long as you’re single, you DO have a chance. I have my prospective eights [https://s1ngal.wordpress.com/2012/07/], to whom I’ve dedicated a post and struck a deal with [the deal’s been sealed, signed and approved from my end].

even with all the nudity… I DO guilt-less fancy you…

–> Because being single lets me lose weight easily. How? Well, I’m single and a bad cook, besides. But that’s not it. I’ve noticed one BIG difference between a single’s fridge and others’. When you’re not single, there’s always food, always : I DARE YOU TO CORRECT ME, anyone??? So now imagine what happens to a pound-wise yet penniless s1ngal who comes back home to an empty fridge. She goes to sleep, empty stomach. Result – weight loss.

my mood or MY MOOD

–> Because my life depends on my MOOD. Anything can happen any-when. I make things happen. I want to blog, I blog – whether it’s dinner time, breakfast time, 3.11 am in the morning. Ican wake up in the middle of the night because I realise I’d forgotten to *like* the post that I’d actually liked.

–> Because the TV belongs to me. I can watch whatever I like and not just the recorded versions. I can turn it off at the 89th minute during a football match between Italy and Spain and go to sleep peacefully because I can always google the result, later.

the REMOTE’s mine, I WIN I WIN

–> Because I can talk to a life-sized Teddy who listens and agrees with me in respectful silence… and there isn’t anyone judging me for this. I carry it with me wherever I go, trust me Teddy doesn’t complain. It’s always there for a bear-hug and turns into a pillow when mine falls off the bed.

more later… i.e. when i can think of some more “because…”

Trust me there are plenty more… because I’m single, I have decided to end

Life gets so monotonous at times that I dread calling it living. I dare not call myself dead either – because I am a breathing being until the day/ night when the elementary routine of breathing in and out ceases…

There are few things that push me to the edge, however, and remind me “Hey, I may be living…. after all” These are simple things, really simple ones. I’m not an adrenaline junkie so I don’t go to extremes and these simple everyday things do make me feel alive.

I wanted to post Celine Dion’s “Alive” video but I’m a technically-challenged cave-girl.

My 5 feel-alive:

1. Hunger: I don’t feel hungry often…

Like the many slips between the cup and the lips – many treats slip through my lips and obviously and obliviously, both, I’m snacking on some fries and deep-fries… Until one day when I begin noticing all my normal tops have morphed into figure-hugging ones. The binge-eating stops and I go back to 3.5 meals a day.

Then comes a time when I don’t have time to eat. So I skip breakfast and then run the errands to realise I’m broke and i can’t afford to get a quick bite. So I come back home famished and all burned out – open the fridge and gasp in shock at :NOTHING: The rumbling stomach bellows, roars and thunders – I’m exasperated, devastated. But I manage to crack a smile – because at that very point I do feel *alive*. I don’t know how or why…. but just then is when I “Feel Alive”.

2. Anger: The rage that boils inside threatening to erupt like a volcano – stays put. I get angry at times, so angry that the blood boils beyond the boiling point. I want to shoot-at-sight people who are responsible for it. I picture the most sadistic torture for these people and it enrages me more to know that all I can do is IMAGINE slapping them, twisting them until their bones snap. And then I laugh out loud – a split-second before the volcano erupts – for at this moment, too, I feel alive.

3. Slumber: Sleeping and sleep-induced dreaming make me feel alive too. Running all day from one end to the other to make both ends meet, at the end of the day I like to lie down on my IKEA couch bed – worn out, yet loved, despite the springs inside which poke me like crazy – and fall asleep, just like that. The dream that ensues brings about the feel-more-alive feel.

4. Heartbreak: When my heart gets broken – obviously because the expectations were never livedup to – I break down. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a Shakespearean kind of tragedy – or even a failed romance. My heart gets broken a lot because I wear my heart on my sleeves and I am a proud owner of rose coloured glasses. As I cry rivers and oceans for yet another broken heart, the little voice inside my head merges into a mirth – for even then I feel strangely alive.

5. A cold shower: I wear this as a medallion. No matter how chilly the weather , I can stand under the jet of a cold shower. In my friends’ circle, this is how I may have become a legend. When that first few icy cold drops hit my warm unprepared [no matter what] body –> I do let out a sigh, I hold my breath, the teeth start clattering, the hands tremble and I feel alive, completely.

I know I can…

All the pointers were rhyming except the *Heartbreak* [right in the middle of nowhere ~ without the “er”]. Hunger, Anger, Slumber and Shower [even]… Heartbreak may sound like no rhyme or reason, but it isn’t and also please note that I have successfully resisted the temptation to write *Heart breaker*.